I’d got him. Oh wow. “It’s a deal.”
Reynald looked back at Derog’s fortress. “There are at least eight guards in the house at all times. One door leading from the street to the courtyard, one door leading from the courtyard inside. Both are reinforced and guarded.”
“Three,” I said.
His eyebrows crept up.
“There is a basement-level escape passage with a hidden door that comes out near the dock. Derog uses it to ship the slaves by river when his usual route is compromised. The passage branches off into two hallways. One corridor leads to the basement, where the kids are held. It’s protected by a door that’s barred from the passageway side. The other corridor leads up the stairs to the kitchen and serves as Derog’s escape route. The slaves never enter that part of the house, and he doesn’t want to be hindered by dealing with additional doors in an emergency, so it’s a straight shot.”
Reynald studied the opposite shore.
“The door is reinforced,” I told him. “You would need a battering ram, so breaking it isn’t an option.”
“Do you have a plan?” His voice told me that he clearly didn’t think I had a plan, and if I did have one, it was probably stupid.
“Yes. You’re going to sell me to Derog, and I’ll take it from there.”
A hint of steel flashed in his eyes. “And you were doing so well up until this point. The answer is no. Out of the question. First, you’re too old. Derog deals in children and adolescents. Second, you will be raped, beaten, and worse.”
“Trust me. He’ll buy me, and I’ll stay safe. I have an asset that Derog is looking for.”
He was looking at me like I had lost my whole bag of marbles. “What asset is that?”
I gave him a big, bright smile.
CHAPTER7
This is reckless and foolish,” Reynald muttered under his breath.
“It will be fine,” I told him. “I have it in hand.”
He nodded at the statue of the Knight Vanquisher in the plaza in front of us. “That’s what Ralinbor of the Wilds said before his final battle.”
“I thought he said, ‘This kingdom isn’t big enough for two sons of Aymar.’”
“That, too.”
We were waiting two streets north of Derog’s personal fortress, in the shadows of some building in the Knight Vanquisher Plaza. The night had fallen, and the enormous knight thrust his halberd to the sky as if trying to impale the three moons glowing against the darkness. The statue had been erected twenty years ago to commemorate King Sauven’s victory over Ralinbor of the Wilds.
Ralinbor Savaric possessed a rare brand of magic, which allowed him to control a particularly nasty species of monster. He was also Sauven’s half brother and best friend. They were raised together, separated in adolescence due to political circumstances, and then reunited in their early twenties. Ralinbor was Sauven’s ride or die.
Sauven had promised Ralinbor great rewards for supporting his claim to the crown, but when it came time to deliver the goods, he dragged his feet and made excuses. Ralinbor saw the writing on the wall—now that his brother sat on the throne, Ralinbor, with his army, vast lands, and powerful magic, had become a threat to his rule.
Two years into his reign, Sauven accused Ralinbor’s maternal uncle of treason and had him beheaded. Ralinbor took his army and marched on Kair Toren. The story had an ugly ending with Ralinbor dying in battle, his wife being brought to the capital, tried for treason, and executed, and their orphan son burning to death. Although that last one was in doubt.
Sauven won, but his victory was bittersweet. He’d killed his brother, the one man in the whole kingdom he’d genuinely cared about. Perhaps because of that, instead of a triumphant smile, the knight’s stone face bore a perpetual disapproving frown. I didn’t need any more disapproval in my life right now. I was getting plenty as it was.
“There must be a better way,” Reynald said.
He’d had almost four months to figure out a better way and he hadn’t. Pointing that out would be counterproductive.
A woman in her fifties walked into the square, carrying a lantern and moving like she had a destination in mind and needed to get there. She wore a dark dress with a knitted shawl wrapped around her shoulders.
Here we go.
The woman stopped and raised the lantern, the light catching her face. She had harsh features and skin like old parchment. Her hair, which might have been blond at some point, had grayed to a kind of beige. She wore it pulled back into a braid and coiled on the back of her head.
Darotha. When you needed some questionable crap done in the west part of the city, she was the person to see. She had three great qualities: She stayed bought, she kept her mouth shut, and she hated Derog. His men raided the beggar slums once and took away some kids. Darotha took offense to that. Those were her beggar children. He sent his people into her backyard, took her kids, and did not return them, apologize, or make amends, and she couldn’t do anything about it because he was sitting in his fortress surrounded by guards.
